I knew my relationship was over a long time ago. I could see it coming up on its’ last breath begging for me, calling for me. Its’ life was draining and no longer salvable. If I tried any harder, I’d be dead alongside it. It was always hard to leave because I had no choice. At least that's what it felt like. It’d cling to me like a leech sucking the life out of me. Every time I pushed away, it would pull me back in, looking me in the eye, telling me things would be different. It would spew false promises brainwashing me until I became unrecognizable.
It wasn’t always like this. I still remember the beginning. The endless days with him laughing and driving to our favorite spots. The walks back home after finding out we lived in the same neighborhood. Getting to know each other through our music and ideas we held close to us. It was as if we had known each other our whole lives. I couldn’t imagine a life without him. But I was young and feared commitment. I crushed his heart and expected him to stay. In the end, he couldn’t get over that hurt, and as a result, took it out on our relationship.
That last day I had enough. At this point in the relationship, there was nothing but anger, resentment, and lies. I let him borrow my car while I went to work. Let. More like I was forced to. I spent the entire day with the image of my big cozy bed in my head. I could almost feel the warmth of my blankets on top of me, hugging me as if protecting me from harm. I looked at my phone on the way out. 5:25PM. Finally. As I walked towards the parking lot I began to feel a sense of dread. It was always a battle dropping him off. As always, I expected a fight when I got in the car. Lately, I had no energy to argue. Most of our recent arguments were one sided where he would fight, and I would sit with my voice box locked away. Then, I saw it. Absolutely nothing. An empty lot almost laughing at me. I felt the anger creep up inside me. For some reason this was my breaking point. Every fight, every passive aggressive comment, every horrible joke at my expense, and this was the breaking point. Maybe it was because this was another example of how he constantly ignored anything I asked of him. He didn’t have his phone connected, and there was no way of contacting him. I had told him multiple times before like a broken record, “Please don’t move because I won’t be able to reach you.” Of course, I was talking to a wall. There was nothing else to do but sit with my small flame slowly growing inside me.
6:00PM. I was sitting outside the building I worked at. The red bricks beneath me were cold, stiff, and unforgiving. The summer air was humid and heavy. I could feel the sweat drip down the back of my neck and my anger spreading through my body radiating from my stomach to my fists. I had a million thoughts running through my head, but only one kept coming back over and over again. What if he just ditched me? What would stop him from taking my car and never coming back? It was already obvious that he didn’t care for my time. He had already proved before that he didn’t care about my well being or my feelings. I was completely alone, and it was all starting to hit me at once.
My trust in him went out the window a couple years ago. The more I thought about it, the more irritated I became. My fists started to clench. My knee was shaking, my breathing became heavy, and I could feel my tiredness fading away. I wanted, no, needed to do something. As I reached for my phone, I saw a similar nose approaching me. I looked down at my screen. 6:47PM. As he pulled the car next to me, I mouthed to him through the dark window, “Move.” I got in through the driver’s side and immediately started driving home. I said nothing the whole way. Why bother? This was it. A sort of confirmation of the lack of respect. I realized there was no love, no thought, no regard for me or my time. I’ve never been more motivated to leave.
I had always heard of women in these situations. I’ve read books and seen movies and shows about all these scenarios. I’ve defended so many women and advocated for them. Yet, when it came to me, I thought I didn’t deserve the same thing. I never really realized I was in the same situation until it was over. Days after I broke things off, I started thinking about the isolation I went through. The emotional abuse. The coercion. All the times I was held hostage until he decided to let me go. When I left, it was like seeing the clouds for the first time. This beauty that’s been there the whole time but never noticed. I was so sure my life was going to go down a terrible path. I thank myself for finally seeing I’m worth so much more. In the words of Kay Douglas, “Sorrow has carved new depth in me. There is greater understanding and compassion. And I now know that the most precious person in my life is me.” Invisible Wounds.
This piece is very important to me because this moment was the end of my past and the beginning of my future. It solidified the fact that I am powerful, and I am strong enough. I went through an abusive relationship that was disguised as love. Over the years, it became more intense, more strenuous, and left a hell of a lot more damage. At one point it became dangerous, and I knew I had to leave. The title is inspired by one of my favorite artists, Mitski. It reflects on an abusive relationship and the trauma that’s hard to let go. I was inspired to write about this event because there are so many women like me out there who aren’t seen or heard. This is for them. I also thought it could be a small exercise to use as a healing process. This event led to my final decision, and I am happy to share my inner most thoughts and inspirations.
Because this relationship was mainly emotionally/psychologically abusive, I think it’s important to emphasize stories like this as well. Just because I, and other women like me, went through little to no physical abuse, doesn’t mean we don’t deserve to be heard. Isolation is real. Manipulation is real. Verbal abuse is real. In an article written by Dr. Carney and Dr. Barner, they touch on the “three aspects of controlling coercive violence (CCV): emotional abuse, sexual coercion, and stalking or obsessive behavior […].” I like this article because it describes in depth the types of non-physical abuse people endure. It puts in perspective with great details of just how appalling these relationships can be.
“From ancient times, women were regarded as property of their fathers, husbands, sons, or some other male, with no legal rights, whose wellbeing did not matter.” (DVSN). The Domestic Violence Services Network date abuse on women as early as 1750 BCE. Women were treated as objects and were seen as disposable. Women continued to experience death, sexual assault, and emotional and physical abuse for centuries. We were only allowed rights almost four thousand years later. I feel this very large gap tells you just how long we have been dealing with this issue and just how long it’s been ignored.
On a more personal level, my writing is inspired by what I went through on my own. Now that I’m on the other side of my past relationship, I see how many people are here for me and love me. But during the past two years with him, I felt, for a lack of a better word, alone. I felt depressed because “the only person in my life” could not hear me. I felt angry because I was told I couldn’t leave. I was constantly confused about who I was and if I was even a good person. I didn’t let anyone in because I thought I was in this on my own. I didn’t want to worry or annoy my friends or family. My ex-partner would constantly tell me I was a problem and called me abusive. This final act of blatant disrespect showed me just how much I mattered in his eyes and how much better I really deserved. After he finally showed up with my car, he tried to turn the situation on me and told me I was wrong for being upset and that I should be more understanding. I was so angry I didn’t say a word during the whole car ride. Like I said previously, nothing I say would’ve mattered to him.
One thing I’d love to explore more as I continue to add to my writing is female rage. Lately I’ve taken a big interested in all things women to reconnect with my femininity and take back my life. Stories like Tomie (Junji Ito), Jennifer’s Body (Diablo Cody), and even Kill Bill (Quentin Tarantino) have inspired me and showed me I am so much more than the trauma I have endured. This relationship had brought me sadness, confusion, and many other strong and negative feelings. But rage? I knew I had inherited anger issues from my dad, but this was a whole new level.
Aimee Sarmiento is a student at Houston City College majoring in Education. She loves helping others, and strives to make a difference in the world no matter how small.